Spring is in the Air!

It's that time of year when you can start to feel it in the air. There's a certain warmth to the wind. A musty odor of thawing leaves. Small splotches of grass beginning to poke through. Sprinkler systems sputtering out their first spray of the season. Bully winter starts to soften  it's stance and allows spring to nudge its way in. Nothing makes me happier than spring!

For whatever reason, principals get a little fire drill happy in spring. Maybe it's because for months, the weather has been too unpredictable and our emergency readiness skills are waning. Maybe it's because they just want to give weary teachers a forced break to get out and enjoy a moment of much needed sun. Maybe it's just a weird ego trip that principals go on that gives them pleasure to watch four hundred children lined up silently, anxiously awaiting that bell that lets them know all is clear and they can re-enter the building. Whatever the reason, there are more fire drills in more schools in more cities in the months of March, April, and May than there are any other time of year.

It was a one of those days in spring when I was teaching 1st grade that the principal came around announcing that the entire school staff should be prepared to have a fire drill at 2:05 p.m. I readied myself--sunglasses out on my desk, emergency clipboard ready to go, math lesson perfectly timed to be cleaned up at the onset of the dreaded raging, "BZZZZZZZZZ!" I took advantage of a distracted child's comment during math to surreptitiously meander the conversation around to fire drill etiquette by a few well planted hints about emergencies. I was prepared to be far out on the hill alongside the north side of the building faster than my teammates. In the spring, when you don't have enough time to grab your coat, fire drills can be a bit tortuous. The sun shines but there's still a breeze and standing there with twenty five teeth-chattering, goose-bumped six year olds was not my idea of fun. If I could get there with my class first, there was a spot on the hill barely big enough for us that the sun hit just right and I knew it would be warm in the spring sunshine. Even if there was a slight breeze, it would still be warm. We had to be ready! We had to get there first!

2:05 on the dot. "BZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" The alarm sounded. Like dutiful little soldiers, my class lined up and marched outside in perfect step. I grabbed my clipboard and sunglasses and led the outside. Silent except for the muffled sound of tennis shoes on cement, we started towards the hill. Jeremy held the door for his classmates, Susana turned out the lights and closed the classroom door and joined the back of the line. No one said a word. No one dared to. We were out in record time and made it to the coveted spot of sunshine on the hill. We were grateful for the small amount of warmth it offered as we looked over at the other classes, children rubbing their arms and bouncing in place to stay warm. I had the class turn around and face the building, staying in their perfectly erect little line, demanding their silence when even a slight peep could be heard. I began the usual routine of calling roll, making sure no one was left behind in the bathroom or out in the hall getting a drink.

"Devynn?"
"Here!"
"Frankie?"
"Here!"
"Mario?"
"Here!"
"Sebastian?"
"Here!"

It was right after Sebastian's name that I heard a slight gurgle, then a sound like the hissing of air from a balloon. And then, a full out squeal, followed by other louder squeals, followed by an icy splash of cold water on my face, then a spray of water across my pants, my shirt, my hair. It finally dawned on me what was happening. In the same way that our beloved principal played out his spring fever with the fire drill, the city of Westminster celebrated spring with a test to the park's sprinkler system. Children were screaming, running amok. Students from other classes were squealing with delight at the sight. A few brave yahoos from other classes deciding to join in the fun and randomly go awol to dart through the sprinkler. We were like ants escaping from a stirred up anthill--complete and total chaos ensued!

Twenty-five-soaked-bodies and a flat-hairdo-for-me later, it was like herding cats to get the students reassembled. A few would join me, then race off again screaming. The laughing was uncontrollable, the squealing unmatched, the teeth chattering almost audible. When I finally managed to wrangle them all together again to do another roll call, we were standing in the shade of a big tree and our blue lips and goosebumps gave hint to physical torment we were under. Only a careful bystander would notice though. What everyone saw when they looked in our direction was complete and utter joy. We were full on belly laughing and only paused when the bell rang to give us the "all clear" signal. As we made our way back into the building, our line a little less erect, the students definitely not silent, I was reminded again--oh how I love spring!